


Interlude: Open

by yarnandtea



Series: Despite the Odds [5]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, shega
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-11
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2018-01-19 01:00:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1449454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yarnandtea/pseuds/yarnandtea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life under house arrest might not be terrible for Winnie, but it's not great either. The way James sees it, that makes celebrating things like her birthday more important than ever. Even if it's with a simple gesture.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interlude: Open

**Author's Note:**

> Set before the start of ME3, while Shepard is in Vancouver and James is acting as her guard. I know this is jumping WAY ahead in the story, but I got inspired to write this for all of the Shepard's birthday shenanigans.

**April 11, 2186: Vancouver**

“What the hell is that?”

James, already halfway out the door and beginning to suspect his gift had gone unnoticed, paused. He made a slow turn back to face Winnie, taking the time to school his expression. From the tone of her question, he suspected a smirk wouldn’t go over too well, so he tried for calm and respectful instead. “It’s a cupcake, Commander.”

She left off glaring at the baked good in question long enough to glare at _him_. Just for a second though, and then she turned her eyes back to the cupcake. “But _why_ is there a cupcake?” She screwed up her nose, looking at it in consternation, the fingers of one hand drumming on the table. The model ship she’d been engrossed in when James had delivered the tray with her normal afternoon pot of tea (and bonus cupcake) had been abandoned as she scrutinized the apparent puzzle he had presented her.

Her eyebrows drew down and James felt that smirk trying to fight back through. He dropped his gaze so she wouldn’t see, but that turned out to be a mistake,because it allowed him to notice her toenails. She’d painted them again, changing the color from black to green. A deep emerald green that brought to his immediate memory a night almost six years gone. _Her top was almost that exact shade—_ he cleared his throat, giving himself a mental shake to fight down the memories of that night. That was so not what he should be thinking about right now. Or ever, probably, given the situation. He shifted his eyes to the ship she was building, a Turian cruiser this week, and took a slow breath to get himself under control. He’d just have to avoid looking at her toes for a few days, that was all. She’d get bored and change the color again before too long. He bit back an amused chuckle. He never would have thought that avoiding looking at someone’s toes could be such a challenge. If someone had told him two months ago that Commander Shepard avoided wearing shoes whenever possible, he’d have rolled his eyes and assumed they were having him on. Yet here he was, newly armed with the knowledge that Winnie Shepard preferred going barefoot if she could get away with it. He was learning all sorts of things about her on this assignment.

Like, apparently, the fact that she tended to lose track of the date when she was under house arrest.

James sighed and met her eyes again, offering a sheepish smile. “Couldn’t really swing a party,” he said with a shrug, “but I wanted to do something anyway. Happy birthday, Commander.”

Her eyes went wide and she sat up a little straighter in her chair, glancing back at the cupcake and then back at him. A look of absolute bafflement settled over her face before she scrunched her nose up again. James tried to think really hard about _not_ kissing the tip of it.

“Fuck. Is it really?”

James couldn’t help but laugh. “Afraid so, Commander.” She let out a deep breath and shook her head, turning to stare at the cupcake again. _She really must be surprised_ , he thought, _that’s three times I’ve called her “Commander” without her reminding me not to_. He smiled to himself. “It’s nothing special,” he gestured at the tray, “but it should taste good. Like I said, just wanted to do something for you.”

Well, he _wanted_ to get her some really extravagant gift, or better yet, break her out of here. But he suspected she would appreciate neither—and Anderson would probably have some choice words about both actions as well. A cupcake had seemed the safest route. Putting all of his special forces training into play, he’d managed to find out her favorite flavor (chocolate) without alerting her as to why. Then he’d spent about three nights making practice batches, trying to find exactly the _right_ chocolate. Thankfully, everyone in the mess was more than happy to help him take care of all of the extra cupcakes he ended up with as result. In the end, he remembered her mentioning how much she loved Black Forest cake, and decided to go with something inspired by that—rich chocolate cake with dried cherries chopped up and mixed into the batter. He’d frosted it carefully, mostly white icing, but with a red stripe running down the center. All of the brass might have forgotten that she was N7, but he hadn’t, and he thought maybe she could use a bit of a reminder as well. He had topped it off with a black cherry.

Her expression softened a bit and she offered him a smile. “Thank you, James.”

He nodded and returned the smile, then turned to go again. As he reached the door, he heard an exasperated sound from behind him and looked back to find Winnie poking at the frosting. She looked…confused, he thought. Maybe a little annoyed. He frowned and tried to will himself to open the door, to just go. She preferred to have her tea alone, he had learned. She worked on her models and she drank her tea, and for a little while, she could pretend like she wasn’t under house arrest, waiting for the bickering brass to finally decide her fate. She could forget about the Collectors and the Batarians, and the Reapers that those _pendejos_ refused to believe her about, and just have some peace. He wasn’t stupid enough to think he was an exception to her desire for solitude. Their awkward history was bad enough, but throw into that the fact that he was for all intents and purposes one of her jailers, friendly or not, and he knew he had no place here when she was trying to forget. She dealt with so much bullshit every damn hour of every day, and he figured it was the least he could do to make sure she got a few minutes of peace when she could.

But something wasn’t right here. Some people didn’t like to celebrate birthdays, and if she was upset about the reminder, he could understand her mood. But that didn’t seem to be what was going on. He didn’t think she was that upset about having forgotten about her birthday either. But from the way she was just kind of hunched over at the table, looking at a complete loss…

“Winnie, hey,” he said softly, turning and leaning against the door. “You okay?”

She didn’t even flinch at his use of her name, despite the emotions he could never quite hide when he said it. She just shook her head slowly, sitting back in her chair, eyes fixed on the table. “Yeah, I guess. Just…”

“Just what?”

She laughed, then, and her whole demeanor changed. He thought she was laughing at herself. She shot him a wry glance and shrugged, admitting, “I was just trying to figure out how old I actually am.”

“What?” James blinked in surprise.

“Well…I missed a year. Well, two, really, or close enough. But only one birthday. So according to my birth certificate, I’m thirty-two. But am I? Or is this really thirty-one?” She shrugged again. “I don’t know why it bugs me, but, well. I guess it does.”

“Oh. Huh.” James tilted his head. “Would have thought that was something you’d have sorted out last year.”

“Well, last year was a bit, um, hectic.” She rolled her eyes, then shot him an embarrassed grin. “Didn’t even realize my birthday had happened until a month later, and I don’t think anyone on the crew knew about it at all.”

“Shit, that sucks.”

“Never really been one for big birthdays,” she shrugged once more.

“Yeah, but still—” He cut himself off, catching her raised eyebrow, and he knew he was blushing. He’d been about to say she deserved to be celebrated, to have a fuss made over her. Better not to finish that sentence out loud. He huffed and took a few quick strides across the room, kneeling next to her chair so that their eyes were on the same level. Fighting the urge to push back a stray lock of her hair, he held her gaze. “Seems to me like it’s your call. So, what do _you_ want to be?”

“I just want to be _me_ ,” she sighed.

There was a weight behind that last word that James didn’t quite understand. But then again, he didn’t need to, did he? “Well,” he said, offering her a smirk and moving to stand. He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “There you go then. How old does Winnie Shepard feel?”

She blinked and stared up at him before bursting into laughter. “James, you’re no help _at all_!” But from the way her whole frame had eased, he thought maybe she didn’t mean that at all. She seemed in much better spirits as she reached for the cupcake and began unwrapping it. She winked at him as she swiped a bit of frosting with her finger and stuck it in her mouth. “But thanks for trying.”

“Hey, any time,” he said with a grin. “Any time.”

He gave her one last nod and then finally made his way out of the room. His smile lasted for a long time. It was good knowing he could make her laugh like that. That she still _could_ laugh like that, after all the shit she’d been through. He threw an unconscious glance skyward as he made his way across a courtyard. If they were going to survive what was coming, they’d need Winnie Shepard to do it.


End file.
